‘But this Englishwoman,’ asked the man Valade, his puzzlement plain to see, ‘who was she?’ The question irritated Charvill. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. His energy began to slip away and she sank her teeth into his fat carotid artery below the piano wire, which had drawn blood from his neck. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms.
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